A New Love
by Elenaiel
Summary: AU. What would have happened if Celebrían had been rescued in time? Arwen never resided in Lórien. Estel resides with two fosterparents instead of one. The twins never lost their innocence. The future of Middle Earth is altered forever...
1. Prologue: Part One: Promises

**A New Love**

**By**: Elenaiel

**Rating**: PG 13 (T)

**Warnings**: AU. Angst, blood, and drama.

**Summary**: What would've happened if Celebrían had been rescued in time? Arwen never resided in Lórien. Estel resides with two foster-parents instead of one. The twins never lost their innocence. The future of Middle-Earth is altered forever, and we can only watch as its inhabitants attempt to adjust.

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: I am playing in Tolkein's sandbox. I do not make money or get compensation of any sort for writing this. I own only the plotline.

**Feedback**: elenaiel (at) rocketmail (dot) com (or the review button typically works well). Constructive criticism is welcome, but if you can't be civil don't bother.

**A/N**: This is a rewrite. I was reading through this with my husband and found a lot of errors and plotlines that my fifteen-year-old self didn't catch. Enjoy!

Based on the _Laws and Customs of the Eldar_ section of _Morgoths' Ring_ and a little simple math, a pair of sixteen year old Elflings would be about the same size and have the same view of the world as a seven year old human.

_Italics_ – thoughts, prayers, flashbacks. It should be clear which is which.

All speech is in Sindarin unless otherwise noted in-text.

ALSO, one final note: I had a reviewer ask why I didn't write Gilraen instead of/as well as Celebrían. My answer is simple: I do not know enough of Gilraen to do her justice as a character. Humans have rather unpredictable natures; I recall reading once that "the human race is too diverse to really even be considered one species', and I fully agree. Human personalities can differ greatly; Elven personalities are more predictable, and Celebrían is also mentioned more than once throughout Tolkien's works.

* * *

"Which is why, my sons, your father and I tell you to stay within the places we know you're safe," Celebrían finished, laughing melodically as her two small boys nodded so vigorously they almost toppled to the ground. She had been telling the twins a story from long ago, about a small Elfling who was about their size. He liked to explore as much as Elladan and Elrohir, and had gone into the forest all alone. He was lost, alone, and scared for several days before his family found him, and he had gotten into a great deal of trouble because of his disobedience.

Elladan and Elrohir flopped onto their back next to their mother, staring at the clouds for a few moments. It was calm and cool in Celebrían's garden, and the hot summer weather was finally settling back to comfortable fall. As a stray cloud wafted in front of the sun, momentarily obscuring it, Elladan's smile faded.

"Mama?" he asked after a moment, sitting up. Elladan and Celebrían both looked to him.

"Yes, Elrohir?" Celebrían asked after a moment, in which Elrohir was lost in thought. She smiled as his eyes snapped to her face.

"Is it going to rain?" the child tilted his head and looked at the sky. Before Celebrían could answer, Elladan cuffed his brother sharply over the head.

"Of course it is, silly! That's what clouds are for," Elladan said sensibly, ignoring his mother's scolding. "Mama, nothing will get us in the valley, will it?" his small voice was worried, and Celebrían pulled him into an embrace.

"No, my son, nothing will get you in this valley. It is very safe here, but if an adult tells you not to go somewhere or not to do something, you need to listen, or you might get hurt. Your father and I will always protect you, but you need to listen so that we can."

As she finished, Elladan's face screwed up in thought, and she had to smile. His thoughtful scowl was identical to his father's, with a slight hint of her own face mixed in. His dark hair tickled his nose in the breeze, and he wrinkled it before saying, "Mama?"

"Yes, Elladan?"

"I will always protect you and ada too. I promise." The little boy's voice was very serious and he grasped his mother's hand firmly as he nodded. Standing unseen in the archway to the garden, Elrond smiled. Elladan could be headstrong and stubborn when he wanted to, but underneath, he was a good child.

"Thank you, Elladan," Celebrían replied, squeezing his hand back and pulling both him and his brother into an embrace. Elrohir muttered around a mouthful of his mother's golden hair, and Elrond knew that he had repeated his brother's promise. Celebrían buried her face in her children's hair. "Thank you, boys. I'm sure your father and I shall never have need for worry, because we have our brave sons to protect us. Now, I hear two little stomachs growling. Why don't we go in for supper?" Celebrían asked, taking the hands of both her sons and turning. Surprise flitted across her face as she noticed her husband in the archway, smiling broadly.

"Daddy! Were you there the whole time?" Elladan asked loudly, dashing to Lord Elrond. Elrond crouched to better receive the child, catching and lifting him in one fluid motion before placing him on his hip.

"Yes, Elladan, I was, but I did not want to disturb you two and your mother," Elrond replied, placing his forehead to the child's. "Now, let us go sup, and perhaps you may stay awake a little later than usual in the Hall of Fire tonight. Remember, our guests from Lothlórien will arrive later this evening."

Both Elflings released a joyful little cry, Elladan hopping out of his father's arms and challenging his brother to a race to the house.

As the children ran ahead, Celebrían smiled, stepping lightly to her husband and enveloping him in an embrace. "The innocence of children…let us hope they need never act upon the promises they made today," she stated.


	2. Prologue: Part Two: Chase

A New Love

**A New Love**

**By**: Eleniel

**Rating**: PG 13

**Warnings**: Again, slightly bloody/angsty.

**Summary**:

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of this except the idea and any/all original characters.

**Feedback**: The review button works well most of the time, or email me at RowenChan (at) hotmail (dot) com

(_text here_) thoughts, prayers, anything spoken silently.

_I am not sure how long it takes to ride from Rivendell to Caradhras. I have portrayed it as a three-day trek, riding hard, on horseback. I have no proof of this and if you know any better, please enlighten me._

This is the second part of a three-part prologue. The final part will be up as soon as possible, but as previously stated, I am having difficulties writing because of the effects of various medical problems and medications for said problems.

* * *

It was a long ride from Imladris to Caradhras. The large party of Elves gone after Lady Celebrían and her daughter rode hard for an entire day, stopping only when their horses needed to, even eating on horseback when they could. The second day was also spent with hard riding, and on the third, the anxiety and desperation could be tasted in the air.

Finally, Caradhras was in view, and several dark forms could be seen on the ground. Alarmed, Elladan and Elrohir dismounted their tiring horses and sprinted to the sight.

A dozen Elves had gone with the Lady Celebrían and her daughter, bringing the total to fourteen, and all were trained warriors. Even Celebríän and Arwen had skill with the blade and the bow, having been instructed by their male family and protectors. Even so, however, neither Lady would have long been able to defend themselves, and a dozen warriors were too little to protect against the large party of Orcs they had been informed of.

As they approached, the twins could count at least thirty bodies, as well as all fifteen horses that had gone with the Elven party. Elladan's heart raced; Elrohir's breathing was becoming increasingly audible. Any Orcs left in the area would have had no trouble detecting them; fortunately, or unfortunately, considering the circumstances, there were no Orcs anywhere even close.

Dashing between the bodies, trying to find their own, Elladan and Elrohir were soon joined by Glorfindel and several other Elves from their search party.

"Elladan, Elrohir!" came a quick, sharp cry. Glorfindel could be seen, not far from the twins, stooped over a seemingly lifeless body. The Elf in question was not fully visible to the twins, but as they walked closer, they realized it-she-was dressed in the same clothing their sister had left Imladris in.

"Arwen..." Elladan murmured. Fear was evident in his eyes, and pain. "I should never have let them come alone..."

"She lives yet, but I fear she is treading the very edge of the world," Glorfindel said gravely, tilting the young, beautiful Elf Maid's face to check the bloody gash running across the side of her head. The gash was still oozing blood slowly, running from her temple to the back of her head, a length of six inches. "Apparently, the Orcs took her for dead. She needs your father, as soon as we can get her back."

"I shall return with her immediately," Elrohir said firmly. Worry tainted his voice and it was obvious the Elf was terrified at the thought of losing his younger sibling.

He knelt on the stony ground, preparing to lift his sister to a safer place to treat her as best he could. Glorfindel stopped him, though, stating that he was one of the finest archers among the company, and he would certainly be needed before the end. Elrohir was not quite so easy to convince, but after a few better said arguments, he finally gave in.

"All right, Glorfindel, all right...I shall stay with the main party, while another takes Arwen home...but she needs medical assistance now or she won't reach home." With that, he swept the prone form up, carefully supporting her wounded head, apparently broken leg, and cracked ribs. Anguish swept through his heart and he found himself blinking back tears at the thought of his wonderful sister attacked and left for death. Hatred burned his veins, poisoning his mind with thoughts of revenge.

In a few minutes, while cleaning Arwen's head wound, Elrohir was given another patient. He had heard the shouts of the others, stating they'd found a live Elf, but he was badly hurt. It was Calilmal, Lady Celebrían's personal servant. He would have given his life for his Lady; obviously, he had almost succeeded. The Elf bore three arrows lodged in various parts of his body, and several shallow, long cuts, one running from his left ear to his right shoulder. It had almost slit his jugular, but had missed by a millimeter.

Elrohir yelled for another first aid pack, and almost instantly felt two skid into his leg where he was kneeling on the hard rock of the mountain. He had mixed up all the herbs he could for Arwen that didn't require hot water, and there was a pot on a small fire, just beginning to boil, but he would need much more for Calilmal.

Hastily washing and bandaging the angry slash on his sister's head with herbs to help stimulate the healing process and keep it clean, Elrohir moved to Calilmal. He did not look good at all; Elrohir doubted for a moment whether he could save him, but all thoughts were quickly pushed to the back of his mind. He did not quite match his father's skill in healing, but he was awfully close, and he had the stubbornness of his mother. He would not give up.

Pulling the arrows out of Calilmal's body, one by one, checking for poison and finding none, Elrohir quickly brought the bleeding under control and bandaged him. The slices would need to be stitched, if only for the length of them; not one was under a foot long, but all were very shallow. Calilmal was a skilled fighter, having been in a regiment fighting with Lord Elrond before dedicating himself to his Lady. He looked as though he had been performing i'lilte.

I'lilte was an art, very difficult to master but very useful once it had been. It could be performed for beauty and art, or as part of combat. The raw trance elves performing i'lilte went into numbed them to pain, and the sheer amount of concentration needed enhanced their reaction times to near unbelievable levels. It was very effective in dispatching multiple foes.

Calilmal had apparently been performing i'lilte, which he had mastered at a young age. It was the only explanation for the long, shallow cuts; an orc would've cut to kill. The thin lacerations were a sign of the pivots, spins, and large amount of movement the dance employed to avoid standing still long enough to become a functional target.

Elrohir decided the cuts would wait until after his sister's broken leg and cracked ribs were splinted and bandaged. It appeared the Elven servant was not as bad as he looked; he'd simply bled quite a bit from the four slashes and three arrows, and fallen unconscious as a result. He would have many stitches, however.

Wrapping a bandage tightly about Arwen's ribs was not a problem, but her lower leg was bent at a crooked angle and too swollen to get a good enough feel to set it. Still, Elrohir had to try. He manipulated her foot and ankle until they looked as though they were in line with the rest of her leg, and he could no longer see the bulges from the broken bones. He felt once more along where the fracture was, listening for the soft crackle of the bones grinding and hearing none.

Satisfied but still worried, Elrohir splinted and bound her leg and checked her over for any more injuries. He found none, save uncounted cuts and bruises. Sighing, he reluctantly picked her up and placed her on the back of Ithilmë, a swift mare the same silver-white of the full moon. Nólaquën, her Elf, was already waiting to receive Arwen, and as soon as the young Elf-maid was secure he set off, taking a large enough group to stand a fighting chance but still small enough to allow the rest of the Elves the same. Calilmal was also sent with them, as was another Elf, barely older then Arwen, who had been knocked down a slope, hitting his head hard and coming to rest underneath a ledge. He had been invisible to the Orcs, lying unconscious, but had woken just before Nólaquën had left with his party.

While the smaller group raced towards Rivendell, Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, and their party laid the dead Elves in a small, sheltered cave, safe from roaming scavengers and ready to be properly taken care of.

Ten Elves lay together when the grim task was finished. Only the Elf who'd fallen under the ledge, Arwen, and Calilmal were known to have survived; Lady Celebrían was still missing.

As soon as they could, the twins led the considerably smaller, but still sizeable, group of Elves out, following vague but fresh Orc footprints down a trail on the side of the mountain. The sun was low overhead, casting a blood-red glow on all of those present.

"This is an ominous show of color," Elladan remarked dryly, gazing at the dirt of the path. He had been unusually silent and steely since the Men had arrived to tell of the Orcs; the fire in his eyes was even greater than usual now. Elrohir was even more striking, almost matching his brother in intensity. It was a rare thing for the younger Elf twin to get agitated and riled up to the point of rashness, but he looked like he was almost there. Glorfindel sighed quietly; he would have to contain not one, but both, of them if he was to fulfill Elrond's request.

Within two hours the party of Orcs had been found. The number was estimated at around fifty, though more had obviously been present when first the Men, then Lady Celebrían and her party, were attacked. Around twenty men were visible in chains in the camp; five or six of them were already dead, and at least five more were well on their way. The rest would make it, if given aid and a chance soon enough.

One area of the camp seemed to be particularly populated, next to the largest fire in the small, sparsely wooded glen on the mountainside. Staring intently, Glorfindel could barely make out the figure of a female, the firelight and final rays of the sun reflecting brilliantly off of her golden hair...

Glorfindel's heart nearly stopped. He immediately thought of the oath he had taken so many years ago, upon his return to Middle-Earth: he had sworn to protect Elrond and his family. Currently, he was failing that oath; it did not require much of his sharp hearing to hear the snap of the whip and the soft cry of the Lady. She was strong-she would not scream, but the Orcs had given themselves the task of torturing her until she did, apparently.

Swiftly retrieving the rest of the party, Glorfindel quickly formed a plan to surround and attack the Orcs and rescue their Lady. They would be outnumbered at least two to one, but it was their only chance.

Elladan had remained startlingly impassive when he heard his mother's cries for the first time. Elrohir, on the other hand, had been enraged, almost dashing in on his own.

"NO! Elrohir, we **cannot** afford to spoil this! This will be our only chance; we cannot afford to have you taken, and the rest of us found and killed! Restrain yourself, before I am forced to!" Glorfindel whispered vehemently, using an incapacitating pressure point on the back of the younger Elf's neck to hold him still.

Once Elrohir settled a bit, the group tensed. "Three...two...ONE!" Glorfindel whispered, and the Elves rushed forward silently, catching the Orcs by surprise.

"ATTACK!" a small Orc in a tree, apparently a scout, yelled, jumping on one of the Elves. The Elf fell to the ground, and was dead before he knew it.

The rest of the Orcs were soon at attention. With a great cry they hurled themselves at the Elves, who fought valiantly, though they were outnumbered. It was not long before bodies littered the ground, both bodies of Orcs, and of some few Elves who had fallen.

"Ammë!" Elrohir shouted as he and his brother shot the final two Orcs. He dropped his bow and ran to her side...the first part of the battle had been won.

"Elrohir," Celebrían breathed, her eyes wide. She had been taken around noon; it was now dusk. How had her sons known she was in trouble so soon? How had they gotten to her so quickly? It had taken the Orcs until late afternoon to get to where they were now. Having no reason to believe they were being trailed, they had moved at a leisurely pace, and the battle in which Celebrían had been captured had taken an hour or two. They had barely had time to begin tormenting her! Ilùvatar must be watching over me,she thought as her sons began to untie her and treat her wounds. Though there had not been much time, Celebrían still had many wounds. Several lacerations decorated her torso and arms where they had sought to bring her down during the battle, and whip-marks graced her back and sides. Her dress had been shredded, but overall, she was in fair condition. No poison had been found, and her wounds could be treated with relative ease...

...Unnoticed, a small group of Orcs made its way down the mountainside, towards the twenty or so Elves gathered around the dying fire.

* * *

Nólaquën raised his hand, signaling the Elves under his command to stop. Carefully handing Arwen down to a waiting Elf, he dismounted and gave orders to break camp in a clearing. Arwen had begun to stir, but her head wound was severe and would require much more attention to fully heal.

They had gotten far in the last few hours, away from Caradhras. The day was living its final moments, now, giving way to night.

For a moment, sitting next to Arwen on a cloak on the ground, Nólaquën wondered about the rest of the Elves, the ones they'd left behind. Had they found the Lady? Or the Orcs? Were they even still alive? His heart was ill at ease; something was not right. He could do nothing but wait, though, however much it disagreed with him.

* * *

Elrond stood on his balcony in the red sunlight. He had barely slept in the last three days, devoting his time to caring for the injured men instead. He had just taken his leave of them, starting to eat a bit, when an alarm went off in his head; something was wrong, he could feel it. He could only hope it was not his wife or children who were in such absolute, immediate danger.

_Elbereth, hear me, watch over them, please_, he silently prayed with all his might, releasing his cry to the stars. He turned to go back inside, stopping to watch his father's slow progress across the night sky. _Ada, protect them._


	3. Prologue: Part Three: Race for Survival

A New Love

**A New Love**

**By**: Eleniel

**Rating**: PG 13

**Warnings**: Again, slightly bloody/angsty.

**Summary**:

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of this except the idea and any/all original characters.

**Feedback**: The review button works well most of the time, or email me at RowenChan (at) hotmail (dot) com

(_text here_) thoughts, prayers, anything spoken silently.

_I am not sure how long it takes to ride from Rivendell to Caradhras. I have portrayed it as a three-day trek, riding hard, on horseback. I have no proof of this and if you know any better, please enlighten me._

Celebrían clenched her teeth. Cleaning the stripes on her body caused great pain.

Elrohir's cringed. He could tell he was causing his mother pain cleaning her wounds, but it had to be done.

The twins went to work immediately. Water was set to boil, and wounds were washed. Barely had five minutes passed, however, before a horrible screech was heard.

A gurgling sound in the background was the first clue to trouble—then a cry, short and cut off, like a viciously tortured animal. Elladan glanced up. He was completely unprepared for what he saw.

"YRCH!" he shouted, loosing two arrows. One struck an Orc standing over the body of an Elf, his sword still embedded in the warrior's chest. ((ORCS!))

In a flash, arrows rained down upon the offending Orcs. They responded with a volley of their own, striking down three Elves. Two of the three were dead before they hit the ground, but the final Elf was still thrashing about, bleeding profusely from an obviously poisoned stomach wound.

It took only minutes to extinguish the relatively small number of Orcs. Elrohir had not left his mother, and as a result he'd taken an arrow in his back.

"Elrohir!" Celebrían cried as her son jolted over her. His eyes were wide with pain and surprise. She reached her arms up to him as he fell over her, his blood drizzling from his wounds onto his mother's clothing. She was horrified; her baby was hurt and she could do nothing.

"El!" his brother cried, felling another foul creature before rushing to his brother's aid. Elrohir was lying limply over his mother, his face a twisted mask of pain.

"I'm fine, just see to mother, I'll be fine," he stated, reaching around to pull the arrow out of his own body.

"Elrohir, if you could see your back, you'd realize it is dripping black with poison. There is no way I will ignore your wound," Glorfindel replied, picking the younger twin up as he had when the now-almost-three-thousand-year old Elf was a tiny Elfling.

Elrohir struggled as Glorfindel deposited him under a tree, kneeling below the wound to keep him still. The wound was bleeding freely, as a result of the poison the arrow had obviously been tainted with. Pulling a sack of herbs out from his own pack, Glorfindel began to clean the wound with water and pack it full of antidote-herbs.

"Glorfindel! I MUST get back to Ammë!" Secretly Elrohir knew he was poisoned; he could _feel_ the toxic substance slinking through his veins. His thoughts were clouded by Celebrían's injury, though, and he cared naught for himself; only for his mother.

"Elrohir. Stop it. Now. You are sick. This poison will kill you and you know that. _Let me tend you_. The sooner you are cleaned up, the sooner you may return to your mother. She is not in immediate danger. Now sit still!" Glorfindel stated in a voice he had rarely used with the twins, even when they had misbehaved as small Elflings. Elrohir complied, realizing the elder Elf would never let him go until he had been cared for.

Even with treatment, Glorfindel knew Elrohir's body would soon be very ill. Orcish poison of this type could not be stopped completely by the few antidotes the Elves had with them; the cure lay in a cupboard in the Healing Wing in Imladris. Elrohir needed to be taken home – now.

As soon as Celebrían was ready, all the wounded were put on horses and the trip home was begun. It seemed almost an eternity until they reached the valley, but at last, home was in sight…

* * *


	4. Chapter One: The Beginning

A New Love

**A New Love**

**By**: Eleniel

**Rating**: PG 13

**Warnings**: Again, slightly bloody/angsty.

**Summary**:

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of this except the idea and any/all original characters.

**Feedback**: The review button works well most of the time, or email me at RowenChan (at) hotmail (dot) com

(_text here_) thoughts, prayers, anything spoken silently.

* * *

Twin dark heads bobbed in a sea of evil creatures. The Elves-for Elves they were-glistened with sweat and blood, their skilled hands felling many foes. Still, they were losing ground rapidly, despite their prowess. It seemed no matter how many Orcs fell, the Rangers fighting to defend their camp were still outnumbered. As a result of the imbalance, while the Orcs were beginning to dwindle, the men fighting them were always fewer in numbers.

Among those still standing was Arathorn, Chief of the Dúnedain. A ferocious fighter, the fact that he still lived was no surprise; however, his condition was. His left arm hung limply at his side, fingers dripping with blood, and his unshaven face bore a large laceration. An ominous-looking stain spread along the back of his tunic.

On the ground behind Arathorn, a young infant lay, crying weakly. The baby was no more than a month old, a little girl. Her tiny body was nestled between a woman-presumably her mother or another relative-and the hideous corpse of an Orc, foul black blood drenching the infant's blanket. The trees overhead dappled the sunlight, a small patch shining on the baby, as if Ilùvatar were trying to protect her from the Orc's influence.

Unable to lift the girl, Arathorn fought protectively over her, instead. So concentrated was he upon the Orcs surrounding him, he did not see the smallest Orc of all climb a tree slightly to his left.

A warning sprouted from both twins' lips: "ARATHORN!!" The human's head turned slightly in response, but it was too late. The Orc had strung an arrow, aimed, and let it fly, all in a few milliseconds. The projectile flew unfortunately true, striking the Chief of the Dúnedain in his right eye. His spirit fled instantly; the arrowhead had lodged in his brain.

A roar of rage tore through Elrohir's throat. Yanking a small knife from his boot, he flung it with such force it pierced the armor of the Orc who'd shot Arathorn, stopping in his heart. It fell from the tree with a dull thud.

With the death of their leader, the remaining Rangers lost it. Infuriated far past any level that could be considered safe, they charged forward, slicing their way through the enemy like never before. It was not long before every fell creature had been vanquished. The battle was over.

"Elladan! Elrohir! Most of the women made it into the trees, and there were only three children with us-the newborn girl, who is safe with her parents, a three-year-old boy who is still missing, and Aragorn…I saw Gilraen fleeing with him, we must find them! There are but seven Rangers left, but those that are not gravely wounded have been assigned to find the missing. We need help, though-"

The twins nodded, cutting off the young man's frantic ramblings. Stepping lightly over the dead bodies, moving in the direction of the camp set up the night before, they were saddened by the sight that greeted them.

Two women lay dead, neither any older than twenty-five. One had been nearly decapitated, and it looked like it hadn't been clean; torn muscle fibers and uneven hack-marks spelled suffering. The tree she was slumped against was stained with spurts of arterial blood; a deranged man's crimson painting. The sight sickened them.

The other woman's corpse was not so horribly mutilated; a single arrow protruded from the soft space at the base of her skull. Her death had been quick; at least that was one mercy.

Murmuring an Elvish prayer as he stood over the second corpse, movement blurred in the corner of Elrohir's eye. He turned towards the motion, sword ready, only to see…

…a pair of small brown eyes. A child.

"Little one, come here. I will not hurt you," he assured softly, kneeling to the child's eye level. A frightened face appeared-the boy could not have been more than four.

"El? EL!" he cried, recognizing the Elf as a friend. The twins had been travelling with the rangers for several days now, and Elrohir had a soft spot for children, having as playful a spirit as any child could possess. The little ones weren't old enough to tell the difference between the twins; few of the adults could, so 'El' became a common name for the two of them.

Elladan watched as the boy sprinted into Elrohir's arms, pressing his face into the soft fabric of the Elf's over-tunic. The younger twin quickly took the boy to the survivors, and he and the infant girl were both taken away from the carnage.

Still no sign of Aragorn or Gilraen. They were nowhere in the camp. After several more minutes of searching, following confusing trails, the twins had only made one horrifying discovery: a human hand, sliced cleanly above the wrist. The man's body was not far away, missing a hand, the face mangled beyond recognition. Elrohir shuddered; Elladan remained lithic, but his disgust and sadness was clearly visible in his eyes.

Marking the location of the body so it could be buried properly, one of the twins found it: a scrap of indigo-blue fabric, snagged on an especially rough patch of bark. It was the same fabric Gilraen's dress had been made of, white threading and all. Their hearts raced.

Her body lay prone in the colorful fall leaves, not ten paces away, her face in the roots of an ancient Oak. Blood had pooled beneath her, and not far away, two Orcs lay slain. Her sword still occupied the windpipe of one of them.

Elladan knelt beside her, checking the pale skin for a pulse. There was none; the skin was cold, greyish. Shaking his head at his brother, he paused. Soft whimpers issued from the tree behind him.

"Do you-" his question was cut off with a curt nod as Elrohir sprung lightly into the tree, searching for the source of the noise.

What he found surprised him. A tiny foot protruded from a small hollow above the lowest branch. It was invisible from the ground, resting discreetly on the wide bough. A small knife, the sort that was used to carve toys for children, was wedged into the branch, a few inches away from the foot.

This hollow was where the sound originated; it appeared as though the knife had been used to hack away the soft, partially rotted wood, making the hole large enough for a tiny child to crawl into. Gilraen had probably done it; why else would she lie at the bottom of this very tree?

Elrohir tried softly, "Aragorn?"

The foot retreated into the hollow, replaced by a round face. The child's thumb was securely in his mouth, and his eyes were large and scared.

"Aragorn, come here. It's safe now, I promise," Elrohir whispered, holding a hand out. The two-year-old reached out towards him, but refused to budge from the safety of the hollow. _He's probably scared out of his mind, poor little baby,_ Elrohir thought. He held the small hand and pried the child from the hollow.

"Elladan, come to the other side of the tree. I don't want him to see…" he let the sentence end there. Aragorn's small face glanced up at him, wondering, but he didn't remove his thumb from his mouth to ask.

Getting the child down from the tree was difficult; Elrohir ended up balanced precariously, dangling the child by his arms in order to allow Elladan to grasp his upper thighs. Carefully, Elrohir let go and Elladan took the struggling youngster.

"Where's Ammë?" the small child asked quietly. "I want Ammë."

Elladan didn't reply, only held the child closer, shielding his face as he moved away from the tree. His brother was not far behind.

A few yards away, out of sight of the bodies, Elrohir stopped. "Elladan, we cannot take him back to the battlefield; it would scar him for life!" he said in the High Tongue, hoping the child had not learned anything of it yet.

Judging by the boy's confused expression, he did not understand the language. The twins sighed, glad, for the first time in their long lives, that they had bothered to learn Quenya (or had been forced to).

"No, we cannot. We cannot ignore those injuries, either," Elladan replied pointedly. Elrohir blushed slightly, looking to the gash on the inside of his upper arm.

"It's nothing-" he began, but Elladan cut him off.

"Do not lie, Elrohir. Let me clean and bind it and it may turn out to be nothing. Until I have examined it, however, I will not leave it be."

It took a few minutes to clean the cut, but there was no poison and it would heal. Aragorn and Elladan both checked out fine, even though the Elf was drenched in black blood. Satisfied, Elrohir wrapped the child in his cloak and carried him the long way through the forest, in order to avoid further terrorizing him with the sight of many dead bodies. By the time the pair had returned to the Rangers, the boy was sleeping, exhausted, presumably, from the terror of the morning.

"Poor child. Orphaned, nowhere safe to go…what shall be done with him?" the younger twin asked. Elladan had returned first, treading through the ghost camp and the lake of dead bodies. He had no answers; only a body count.

"I don't know, Elrohir. All but seven men were killed, but most of the women survived. There were only three children present, and it looks like all of them are all right. The camp has been razed almost to the ground, and the majority of the supplies are gone. The horses were set loose, but three stood trembling in the camp. El, our horses are fine, over in that thicket." The elder twin pointed to a bush. A hoof was visible inside.

"That is well, but it does not solve our problem. The child cannot stay with the Rangers…perhaps I should take him to father?"

Elladan considered. "That is probably best. Ithilmë!" he called Elrohir's horse. The silver mare trotted daintily to her master, tilting her head and sniffing at the bundle in his arms.

"Wait! Don't we get a say in this?" asked a ranger's wife, approaching the sleeping babe in Elrohir's arms. "He should stay with us."

"No, dear woman, he should not; if you are attacked again and he is found, the race of Men is doomed. He will be safe in Imladris," Elrohir replied, handing the sleeping Aragorn to Elladan and lightly mounting his horse. Once he was seated, Elladan handed the still-slumbering Aragorn up to him, and Elrohir set off to return home, wondering all the while what was to become of the boy after this horrific encounter.


	5. Chapter Two: A Little Brother?

A New Love

**A New Love**

**By**: Eleniel

**Rating**: PG 13

**Warnings**: none

**Summary**: AU. What would have happened if Celebrían had been rescued in time? Arwen never resided in Lórien. Estel resides with two foster-parents instead of one. The twins never lost their innocence. The future of Middle-Earth is altered forever, and we can only watch its inhabitants attempt to adapt.

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of this except the idea and any/all original characters.

**Feedback**: The review button works well most of the time, or email me at RowenChan (at) hotmail (dot) com

(_text here_) thoughts, prayers, anything spoken silently.

Elrond paced on his balcony. His senses and bond with his sons had warned him of something amiss early that morning, and now, near dusk, he was still uneasily treading paths into the stony floors of his home.

Soon, his sensitive ears picked up the sound of horses' hooves, and he looked to the path. A silver-coated horse, followed by another darker animal, walked airily upon the cobblestones, his son on its back. A small bundle rested in his arms.

"Ada!" the dark-haired Elf cried, looking up to the balcony. Elrond did not reply, but fled the room, moving fluidly through the halls. In a flash, he had reached the front terrace.

"Elrohir!" he shouted, his booming voice startling a young stablehand. Elrohir slipped deftly from the back of his horse, patting the animal lovingly. One arm seemed to be wrapped in a cloak, and Elrond was not sure if the arm was injured or if he held something. The answer was soon found as, after greeting his father with a half-hug, Elrohir pulled the cloak back, revealing the dirty face of a young human child.

"He is Arathorn's child. His parents have both been slain," Elrohir said sadly, bowing his head. Elrond closed his eyes in grief, bowing his head. The courtyard stilled around them, the birds seeming to feel the Elves' pain.

"Hiro hyn hidh ab'wanath," Elrond whispered, and the prayer was repeated by his son. As the Elf Lord raised his head, his eyebrows knitted. "Elrohir, where is your brother? He did not…" his voice trailed off. The younger Elf shook his head vigorously.

"No, ada! Elladan has remained with the Rangers to help bury the dead and treat the wounded. There were too many lost to bring them all to Imladris, but Arathorn and Gilraen shall be. Halbarad has taken over leadership of the Rangers until Aragorn is come of age," Elrohir answered. Aragorn shifted in his arms, yawning widely before he opened his eyes.

"Nana?" he questioned quietly. Elrond's eyes clouded as Elrohir shook his head.

"No, erell, it is I, Elrohir," he said softly. Aragorn smiled, then struggled to see his surroundings. ((_little one_))

"Where we at?" he asked, his childish grammar prompting a smile. His blue-grey eyes hungrily drank in the details surrounding him and he started at the loud neigh of a horse. "Who that?" he questioned, pointing at Elrond with one hand as he dug the other into Elrohir's torn tunic. The soft grey fabric seemed to comfort the child.

"I am Elrond, little one. I knew your nana and ada. Don't be afraid; I won't hurt you," Elrond said, holding his hand out to the toddler. Aragorn shied away, hiding his face in Elrohir's tunic. Elrond retracted his hand, instead placing it on his son's back and gently leading him into the Last Homely House.

"Canyer. Find Maranwë and have her bring out the twins' old crib. Place it in my chambers and put fresh bedding on it. Then, go to the kitchen and have them dice a little fruit and bread so the young one may eat," Elrond asked of the first servant he saw. She nodded, her eyes resting on the child in Elrohir's arms.

"Why our crib?" Elrohir asked, tilting his head and shifting the child to his other arm.

"Because it is larger and more heavily built, to fit the two of you; it should be able to stand up to anything this little one can put it through," Elrond replied as he dipped a washcloth in a bowl of water he had fetched. "Aragorn, it is time to get cleaned up a bit." The toddler shook his head, but Elrohir's soft encouragement finally convinced him to allow Elrond to wash some of the filth from his face and body. He was then dressed in clean clothes and sat on the bed.

"That is better, is it not?" he asked, and the child nodded. Stifling a yawn, the little one crawled to the top of the bed and curled into a ball, his curly dark hair contrasting sharply with his pale skin. Elrohir laughed as he picked the toddler up, patting him gently on the back. "You cannot sleep yet, erell. I can hear your little stomach growling. It is time for lunch, then you can have your nap."

"No take naps! I too big now!" Aragorn replied fiercely, crossing his arms over his chest. Elrond had to laugh at the expression. The boy tilted his head, not sure whether to be frightened by the deep voice, or smile at the melodious sound. Deciding on the latter, he grinned widely before yawning once more. Elrohir chuckled and carried the boy into the family dining room.

After a lunch of fruit, bread, and warm tea, Aragorn was snugly tucked into Elrond's large bed. The Elf Lord and his son sat in the adjoining room, worry creasing their faces. They had barely begun to discuss the events leading to Aragorn's coming to Imladris when a soft knock at the door caught their attention.

"Hir-nîn, several ranger women are here; they say Elladan sent them," an Elf-maid spoke quietly, her blue eyes straying to Elrond's bed. Aragorn slept soundly, sprawled on his stomach. His eyes were slightly open, the grey orbs fuzzy and unfocused. His curly black hair lay in disarray, surrounding his head.

"Aye, he may have. See to it they are given food and a place to sleep; if they do not wish to be parted, set up bedding for them in the Hall of Fire, for now," Elrond replied quietly. The maiden nodded and hurried away, gathering several other servants to her as she went.

In the entranceway, a dozen women huddled together, grief marring many of their faces. They were dirty, their dresses torn and several bloodstained. Most wore no shoes, having lost them in the attack that morning; one had even thrown hers at an approaching Orc. An infant girl squealed and a toddler whimpered in their midst.

"Do not fear; we shall soon have a good meal and rest, and don't you let me hear you say you're not hungry. We've all got to eat; it'll not do to have any of us falling ill. We've got two young ones to care for!" a silver-haired woman raised her voice, taking charge of the small assembly. Those around her nodded in agreement; the infant girl wailed.

"She's hungry," the woman holding her said. "Her mother is…how shall we feed her? None of us are able to nurse!"

"Sére, good woman; there are Elves who can do so," a sable-haired Elf-maid assured the woman. She entered the room slowly, a tiny child teetering behind her. "I heard the child crying; I would take her, if you allow. I have a young one myself, but there is plenty for both." She gestured to the little one standing proudly behind her. "Ammë!" the little girl spouted triumphantly, then pointed to the crying infant. "Laito!" ((_baby!_))

"That's right, Nandarië!" the Elf-maid congratulated her daughter, who clapped happily. Turning back to the women, she held her hands out, silently asking. Apprehensively, the infant was put in her arms. "I will bring her back," she assured the group, "I simply wish to feed her. I am certain Lord Elrond will be able to induce milk, if any are willing, and she will no longer need me." Turning around, she strode out of the room, adjusting her pace to allow her daughter to keep up.

Not long after she had left, the Elf-maid returned, a sleeping babe in each arm. The human child was returned to her caretakers and before they could thank her, the elleth had floated away. Many more soon replaced her, carrying cushions and blankets and trays of steaming soups and bread and many other foods. As the women were made comfortable and fed, Aragorn was returned to them, and he and his toddler friend played well into the night.

In the shadows, Elrohir watched pensively. The child of Arathorn and Gilraen occupied his mind, and his father's words rang in his head.

"_The child has no home. He cannot return to the rangers; he is not safe. Gilraen spoke to me ere he was born of his fostering here, in Imladris, like his forefathers before him. I believe this is the safest place for him. Here we can teach him and prepare him to take his ancestral place upon the throne of Gondor, for I have foreseen in his lifetime many great things," Elrond spoke, his forehead wrinkled. Elrohir had agreed, and offered to speak to the women in the morning._

"_Tell them I have adopted the child as my own son, and he shall be treated as such."_

And so, in a single sentence, Elrohir found himself gifted with a new brother, a child who had already wormed his way into his heart and now would be considered his kin.

_A little brother. I am no longer the youngest._


	6. Chapter Three: Integration Complications

A New Love 

**By**: Eleniel

**Rating**: PG 13

**Warnings**: None for this chapter.

**Summary**:

**Spoilers**: none that I know of; it's AU after all.

**Disclaimer**: Anything you recognize is not mine. If you don't recognize it, it probably is mine. If it is mine, it is copyrighted. I don't steal; I expect you not to. I'm not getting paid for playing in anybody else's toy box. Reader's donations are accepted, though...

**Feedback**: RowenChan (at) hotmail (dot) com (or the review button tends to work well…well, usually).

_Italics_ thoughts, prayers; anything spoken silently. Could also be flashbacks. You will usually be able to tell fairly clearly which is which. If there is confusion, please email me, and I will let you know.

* * *

The sun shone brightly, filling the valley of Imladris with just the right amount of warmth. The waters of the Bruinen caught its rays beautifully, sparkling crystal-clear in the late afternoon sun.

It was truly a lovely afternoon – unless one resided in the House of Elrond.

A dark-haired, fair-faced Elf with a sense of authority about him crept carefully from the room, slowly closing the large oak door behind him. He crept on tip-toe, looking for all the world like a child sneaking out of bed.

Unfortunately, another dark-haired Elf had already seen him, and was quickly making his way toward the first Elf.

"Is he asleep?" he whispered, stepping up beside the still-sneaking Elf (although he was now a safe distance from the door). The Elf spun about, his braids whipping through the air.

"Valar, Elrohir, you cannot do that to me!" Elladan caught himself before he yelled. A decidedly babyish smell clung to him – one of drool and tears and that sweet, pure scent of a freshly-bathed little child.

"You smell like baby," Elrohir declared, wrinkling his nose and ignoring his twins' previous comment. "Now, is he asleep, or shall I start running?"

"He is asleep. Finally. I had to bathe him twice, read him four books, let him read me three books, and rock him for an hour, but he is asleep."

"Twice? Why did he need two baths?" Elrohir's eyebrows were raised in an uncanny imitation of their father. Elladan threw his head back, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, after his first bath and the first three books, he decided he was through behaving, so he stripped, ran to the kitchen, and dumped a bowl of flour and eggs over his head. We won't be having any dessert tonight; that was the crust for the pies Deasarë was making. Honestly, brother, I am not sure I wish to have children if they're all like this!" Elladan was worn out. Two solid days they had had Aragorn, and for two solid days the child had raised hell almost continuously, sleeping only in short-lived fits. Elrohir silently agreed, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. As they turned to walk down the hall, a sharp cry rang through the air. Elladan growled and threw his hands up.

"This child is driving me insane!" he fumed as he stalked back to Elrond's chambers, where Aragorn stood in his crib, crying. He stopped as Elladan and Elrohir approached, holding his arms out and sniffling. Elrohir lifted him and he curled tightly into the Elf's neck, wrapping one hand in his long hair.

"What happened to his eyes?" Elrohir asked, noticing the boy's bloodshot eyes.

"Don't let him touch the soap – the first thing he does is rub his eyes," Elladan replied, touching the little ones' cheek.

"Wa-wa, my eyes feel better," Aragorn whispered seriously; Elrohir suppressed a laugh, repeating the child's nickname. In response, Elladan looked Aragorn in the eyes and said, "I'm glad. Do you know what you should do? You should give Elrohir a biiiiig kiss!"

And so, when Elrond entered the room a few minutes later, "La-la" and Aragorn had Elrohir pinned to the floor. Elrohir's face was covered in slobber and his cheeks reddened a little more each time Aragorn's feet slammed into his stomach as the toddler made a bouncing mat out of him.

"Ewon', wook! Get me!" Aragorn shouted as he leapt off of Elrohir and darted under the bed.

"Ada! Save us!" the twins cried in unison. Elrond shook his head.

"He is a two year old child. Surely two millennia old Elves can deal with him?" the smile in the Elf Lords' voice was barely hidden; however, it faded as he looked about his chambers. "What happened in here?"

The royal blue bedspread occupied the lower corner of the bed. The pillows had disappeared altogether, replaced by Aragorn's green baby blanket. Floury footprints – oddly large for a toddler, Elrond thought – lead from the door to the bathroom, and wooden toys were scattered over everything. Something that looked suspiciously like juice had dried on the windowsill and his cloak was most certainly not in its proper place.

"Wa-wa an' me pwayed! I wiiiiike Wa-wa!" Aragorn exclaimed. Elrond raised his eyebrows.

"You like water?"

"No!" Aragorn shook his head vehemently, his wavy brown hair falling into his eyes. He pointed to Elladan. "I wike Wa-wa. Dat's Wa-wa!"

"And Wa-wa says it's time to go to sleep, little one," Elladan stepped in as a grin filled his father's face, making him appear a good deal younger.

"NO!" Aragorn shouted, struggling to get away from Elladan as the Elf lifted him into his crib.

"Yes. I am going to sleep as well," Elladan replied. Aragorn's eyes grew wide.

"You seep wif' me?" he questioned, sitting down and patting the mattress next to him. Elrohir burst into laughter as Elladan shook his head.

"No, I seep – I mean, sleep – in my bed, not in yours!" he replied, striding towards the door and his bedroom. Aragorn's scream halted him in his tracks.

"Nooooo! I seep wif' you! No wanna seep wif' me, I seep wif' youuuuuuuuu!" the little boy sobbed, banging his head on the railing of the crib. Elladan sighed, wearily lifting the boy from his crib again.

"Fine, but you have to go to sleep, all right?" was his only comment as he put the child on Elrond's bed, handed him his blanket, and reached out the window.

"What are you…?" Elrond began, rolling his eyes as Elladan pulled two pillows back inside.

"You are better off not asking," the elder twin replied sleepily, his eyes already beginning to unfocus as he handed Aragorn a pillow and laid down next to the child.

"Nuh nigh', Wa-wa," the toddler sighed, snuggling into the Elf's warmth as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

"I think we may have found the trick," Elrohir whispered. Elrond's eyebrows rose once more in question. "Of getting Aragorn to sleep. Every time we put him in the crib, he wakes up and begins screaming. It's been almost a minute and he's still asleep – it's a record, at least for as long as he's been under our roof."

Three glorious hours later, persistent thumping on his back woke Elladan.

"Wake up! Wake up!" Aragorn whispered. When Elladan groaned, the little boy put a finger to his lips.

"Shhh! Ky-et!" he whispered, poking Elladan in the ribs. When that failed to produce a reaction, he slipped off the bed, grabbing hold of the blanket Elladan had burrowed underneath. In one spectacular motion for such a small child, he yanked it nearly a foot off the bed before Elladan could check its motion.

"Oy!" was all Elladan could say before little feet fled the room. Growling, the dark-haired Elf bolted after the boy.

"Elladan!"

"Sorry!"

"Wa-waaaaa!" Three shouts ricocheted through the halls as Elladan's nose connected with Elrohir's chin, whose elbow then connected with Aragorn's head. The three of them fell in a tangle, two in tears and the last sandwiched between them.

"Aragorn, I am sorry little one!" Elrohir attempted to soothe the child. The little boy only cried harder, resorting to full-blown screams when he noticed the blood dripping from behind Elladan's hand.

When Elrond came running, having heard the crash and worried that Aragorn had been hurt, he was surprised to find the little boy's hands pressed on a towel underneath Elladan's bleeding nose, speaking quietly even as the lump formed on the his crown.

"It's aw-wite Wa-wa, it's aw-wite, I kiss it bedder," the child murmured, planting a small kiss on the tip of Elladan's nose. "See? Aw bedder! Jus' like nana does for me!"

"Oh sweet child…" Elladan whispered, reaching up and wrapping the boy in a one-armed hug. Tears brimmed in his eyes.

"Aragorn…little one…" Elrond was lost for words. How was he supposed to explain to this happy little boy that his nana was never going to kiss another bump better? That his ada would never teach him to fish or climb trees. How does a two-year-old begin to understand death?

"Ewon', where nana?" said two-year-old's question echoed in the hall. Even the birds outside the window seemed to fall silent, awaiting the Elven Lord's reply.

"She has passed on, child. She is with Eru now," the words barely made their way past his suddenly dry mouth.

"In da sky?"

"What?"

"Nana, an' Eru, dey in da sky," Aragorn replied, smiling and running to the window. "Ada wif' dem?" he asked as he pointed toward the sunny blue expanse.

"Yes, Aragorn, your ada is with them," Elrond replied. What he saw in Aragorn warmed his heart; it also broke it. The innocence of babyhood…Gilraen and Arathorn had done well with him.

"Dey in da sky!" Aragorn declared again before happily settling on Elrohir's lap.

"You are an amazing little boy, Aragorn…" Elrohir whispered, pressing his face into Aragorn's hair.

"Estel."

Elladan glanced up at his father. "What?"

"Estel. We cannot continue to call him Aragorn; that name must be discarded now, saved for the appropriate time. The Enemy believes him dead. He is Estel. He embodies hope, carries it in his heart and instills it in the hearts of others as well. Estel," Elrond repeated, his eyebrows raised and his tone allowing no argument.

"I Awa—awa—awagown!" the little boy proclaimed loudly, his hands on his hips. He studied Elrond for a moment before fixing a glare on the Elf Lord, his chin lowered towards his chest and his lips puckered. He brought one hand to his mouth, pointing his index finger towards Elrond and making a fist with the rest of his fingers. Both twins burst into laughter.

"Yes, you are, and you are also Estel. You can have two names at once. We are going to call you Estel, all right?"

"Aw wite! I caw you…"

"How about ada?" Elrond asked gently. Aragorn looked up at him with wide grey eyes. "Your nana and ada are not here anymore, Eru decided he wanted them with him, remember? Did you know that they made me promise to take care of you?" Aragorn shook his head.

"Nana an' ada in da moon!"

"I know, little one…"

"You my ada now? MYYYY ADA!" the little boy shouted, grabbing hold of Elrond and scowling at the twins. "MINE!"

The twins laughed as Elrond lifted the newly christened Estel. Estel had gathered as much of Elrond as he could into his little arms, wiggling in the elder Elf's grasp.

"He was MY ada FIRST!" Elladan whispered, reaching towards Elrond's sleeve.

"NO! MYYYYY ADA!" Estel shouted giddily, laughing and slapping at Elladan's hand.

"MY ada!"

"MYYY ADA!"

"MY ada!"

"Boys! Enough! There is enough ada for all of you!" Elrond put a stop to his sons' game when they reached the gardens. "Go show Estel something, Elrohir. Elladan, you need a bath – you smell of baby!"

"That is exactly what I said!" Elrohir exclaimed, taking Estel and dashing at the apple trees in the far end of the orchard. Elrond's hearty laugh filled the garden.

"Elladan, come! Your naneth will be home soon and YOU, my son, need to fix our chambers before she has our heads!"

"Nana is coming home? I thought she and Arwen would be in Lórien awhile longer!"

"They had planned on it; however, your grandmother is aware of Estel's situation and has sent your nana and sister home as a result. Do you not believe your mother should meet her new son as soon as possible?" Elrond knew she would accept the boy with open arms, and he believed that she would be good for Estel. She was a mother at heart; she could nurture him as only a mother could.

"She will spoil him rotten, if he continues pulling those adorable little antics of his!" Elladan chuckled as he ducked into his parent's chambers.

"If you and Elrohir have not already done it by then," Elrond replied, smiling. "I am glad you both have taken him in so easily."

"You and nana raised us well, ada," Elladan's voice floated out to Elrond from underneath the crib, where he was apparently attempting to extract a few pillows from the wall or the mattress; Elrond could not tell which.


	7. Chapter Four: The Softer Side

**A New Love**

**By**: Eleniel

**Rating**: PG 13

**Warnings**: None

**Summary**: AU. What would have happened if Celebrían had been rescued in time? Arwen never resided in Lórien. Estel resides with two foster-parents instead of one. The twins never lost their innocence. The future of Middle-Earth is altered forever, and we can only watch its inhabitants attempt to adapt.

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: Anything you recognize is not mine. If you don't recognize it, it probably is mine. If it is mine, it is copyrighted. I don't steal; I expect you not to. I'm not getting paid for playing in anybody else's toy box. Reader's donations are accepted, though...wink

**Feedback**: (or the review button tends to work well…well, usually).

_Italics_ thoughts, prayers, anything spoken silently. Could also be flashbacks. You will usually be able to tell fairly clearly which is which. If there is confusion, please email me, and I will let you know.

**A word about Aragorn's behavior**: He is modeled after my 30-month-old (2 ½ years, exactly) goddaughter. She is an extremely brilliant child (cognitively at a 5-6 year old level; counts to twenty in English and Spanish, speaks English and Spanish, knows all her colors, etc) – but she has a small speech impediment. She confuses 'l' and 'w' – 'wa-wa' is how she would say 'la-la'. She also confuses ch/d (instead of Chelsea, it's Delsea), d/j (instead of jay, day), th/f, th/d (and therefore f/d), and a few other letter pairs. It doesn't hinder her as much as you would think, since we know about her letter confusions and therefore know which letters she really means – but it just occurred to me that when I write as Estel/Harlee would speak, you may not understand it completely. If you don't, try saying it aloud, exactly as it's written. If you still don't, I apologize – I really tried to be fairly clear with the toddler-speech.

* * *

"WA-WA! Doin'?" Estel shouted, apparently heedless of the fact that he was less than an inch from Elladan's ear.

"Going deaf – why, little one?" he replied, blinking repeatedly and rubbing at his left ear. Estel had thrown himself on the desk Elladan had been using, and was now sprawled on his belly, staining his tunic and belly with the ink from Elladan's paper. The Elf groaned; he would have to rewrite the whole report now.

"Knock knock," the little boy said, knocking on Elladan's forehead. For a toddler, he is stronger than I thought he would be…Elladan thought as he wrinkled his brow and replied.

"Who's there?" He thought Estel would burst as the child grinned, jumped up, spread his arms wide, and shouted "BUTTER!" as if he had just discovered the grandest thing ever. The toddler laughed uproariously, while Elladan tried to understand his childish logic.

"Butter?"

"Yeah! I'ma eat you!" Estel replied, leaping onto the Elf and proceeding to 'munch' on his thigh. Elladan laughed, falling off of his chair as he attempted to separate the child's face from his leg.

"No! Mercy, little one, mercy!" he cried, laughing even harder as Estel proceeded to tickle him with chubby baby fingers.

And so it was that Celebrían found them – her eldest rolling on his back in the middle of the floor, and her newest and youngest shrieking with joy as Elladan's nimble fingers swiftly found sensitive spots in the child's sides.

"It seems that having a child around has turned our formerly-adult sons into elflings once more," she whispered to her husband, smiling as she watched them play. Elrond's serious countenance melted into a soft grin as he witnessed just how much of an effect Estel had had on his sons, even after only one week.

"Nana!" the laughter stopped as Elladan noticed the pair in the doorway, springing to his feet with Estel upside-down in his arms. Celebrían spread her arms wide and enveloped the pair of them.

"Elladan, I have missed you. And who is this? Estel? My, how you've grown since last I saw you!" she laughed as Elladan righted the child. Estel buried his face in Elladan's neck and wound his hands tightly into the elder twin's hair – so tightly that Elladan gasped in pain as he attempted to extricate the toddler from his hair.

"Estel, do you know who this is? This is nana!" he whispered. Estel lifted his face close to Elladan's and whispered to him.

"Shh! Ky-et! I hidin'!"

"Estel!" Elrohir's greeting interrupted Elladan's reply to the child. "Look, Estel! My nana!"

"NO! MYYYY NANA!" the child puckered his lips seriously, bringing his fist to his mouth, index finger extended.

"That is his fierce face, nana," Elrohir piped up, smiling widely. Celebrían laughed softly, her wide blue eyes sparkling.

"You know, my sons, you both had a similar face that you used quite often…"

"Nana!"

"Did not!"

"Too!" voiced Estel, who had no idea what was being spoken about' he simply wanted to be included. "Too! Wa-wa, wook! I singin'! Sing a song

La la la

An' far far 'way

Your name's nana

An' far far 'way

La la la la

Me goin' far way to da woods

I wan' a snack

Far far 'way

Sing sing sing

Your name's wa-wa

An' far far 'way!" his sweet voice rang through the House. A listlessness seemed to be lifting from the rafters, one that had been imperceptible until the small human had arrived but unbearable once noticed.

"You are such a silly little one, tithen-pen!" Glorfindel stepped into the room, grinning and lifting Estel high over his head. "That was a beautiful song."

"Tank too!" Estel giggled, his curly brown hair falling into his eyes. "Wook, I keen! Wo gave me baf'!" he rubbed his hands over his face in a scrubbing motion and then pointed to Elrohir.

"I have not had a chance to practice toddler-speak in years," Celebrían mused lightly, her soft white skirt pooling about her legs and feet as she knelt on the wooden floor. "Estel? Tithen-pen, would you like to play outside?" she asked.

"Yeah! I wan' pway 'side!" the child rocketed from the room, skidding to a halt at the end of the hallway and calling back, "'Mon! Get me!" before bolting to the huge carved doors leading to the courtyard. "Hewp! Hewp me!"

"Hold on, tithen-pen, I am coming," Celebrían responded, turning to her husband and sons. "Ioni-nín, your sister is in her chambers currently, getting ready to have a bath. Is there anything she should know about before she does so – mayhap a soap she should not use?" her blue eyes sparkled brightly as her sons turned pink. "I thought so. Go, warn her, or you shall not be safe in your own baths for awhile," she admonished. The twins took off to the third floor stairwell, knowing that even if Arwen did not return the favor, their mother was not above turning them an unattractive color or putting a lasting perfume in their soaps on Arwen's behalf. Their mischievousness certainly did not come from their father, serious in all he did, after all!

"Look! I a wuff-wuff!" Estel called to Celebrían as she exited the house. The child was on all fours, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his eyes bright. He loped along, up the stairs, crawling in clumsy circles around the Elf-maid's feet. When she picked him up, laughing, Estel unceremoniously licked up the side of her face. "Wuff! Wuff! Grrrr!"

"Well, my little ruff-ruff, I was to suggest we visit the horses, but a ruff-ruff would most certainly rather find a nice stick to play fetch with, wouldn't he?"

"No! I wan' see haw-sie!" the rest of Estel's sentence was a string of toddler-babble, unintelligible, but his wishes were obvious.

Inside, Elladan and Elrohir lay upon the younger twin's bed, soundly asleep. Arwen had been suitably warned, and now the exhausted pair had finally collapsed.

In the doorway, Elrond smiled upon his sons. Each night for the past week, Estel had refused to sleep when put down – he would slumber so soundly a troll could have stormed passed without his awakening as long as he had a hold on one of the twins' ears and the other twin's hand, but once these comforts were removed…

* * *

_Cries reverberated throughout the hallways on the second floor._

"_ADA!" Elladan yelled in response. He stormed out of his room, meeting his father in the hallway. "Ada, I can't take it anymore! I ache all over from sleeping in the convoluted positions that child thinks is normal! I've not truly slept in a week!" the elder twin shouted. His cheeks – and his left ear – were cherry red and his face held unnatural dark circles, accentuating the pale skin._

"_He is two, Elladan. He cannot help it. The pair of you kept your mother and I up many, many nights – aye, sometimes for a week at a time. You remember when Arwen was born, how she needed round the clock feedings for her first few months. You both were much worse – so small you were, you had a lot of growing to catch up on. You kept us up every night for six months!"_

"_Ada! Ada, go get my Wo!" Estel slumped as he walked down the hallway, sleepily pointing out the window. Elrohir's head popped up, apparently standing on the trellis that climbed the side of the house. "I wan' my Wo."_

"_Elrohir, the door is a more appropriate way to enter and exit the house. If you knock that trellis down, not only are you rebuilding and replacing it, but you will be held responsible for every single time your younger brother climbs out of it."_

_Elrohir leapt back inside at his father's words, fully expecting his brother to run full-tilt into his legs as he had already done so many times. Instead, the two-year-old was unconscious on the floor, his eyes only three-quarters of the way closed._

_"I knew not that Men could sleep with open eyes," Elladan whispered around a yawn. Elrond smiled._

_"Some can. He will sleep for awhile, I think; you should get some sleep while you can," he responded as he covered the child with a blanket, smoothing out his hair…_

* * *

"Ada! Wo! Wa-wa! Guess wha'! I sawed a haw-sie! Was pink an' biiiiiiig!" Estel's excited clamor woke the twins in less than an hour. Their sister's laugh prompted them to rise, however; "are you sure you took the right soap?" a half-asleep Elladan asked his even sleepier brother. Suddenly, both sets of eyes opened wide, and two sets of feet leapt from the bed.

"You had better have taken the right soap!" Elladan whispered viciously.

To their relief, Arwen's hair was the same color, and her skin just as luminous as it would normally be. To their surprise, upon her hip sat their youngest sibling, happily laughing away.

"Wo! Wa-wa! Wook what Ah-wen gave me!" he murmured when he saw them, motioning them in with his hands. When he thought they were close enough, he reached into his shirt and pulled out a pure-white, milky stone the size of his little palm. "It's a star! It fell in da wiver!"

"Really? Would you like me to put it on a chain so you can wear it as a necklace?" Elladan asked, but Estel shook his head.

"No! Not in my star! AHWEN! Dey gonna woo-in my star!" the little boy dropped the stone into his swaddlings (what an odd place to keep things! Elrohir thought) and buried his face in Arwen's neck.

"It's all right, tithen-pen, he is not going to ruin your star. Hush now, hush. How about we take a bath, hmmm? Or would you like to eat first?" the elf-maid was startlingly good at mothering, for one who had never mothered before.

"Wan' eat! I hungy!" Estel answered loudly, wiggling loose of Arwen's arms and bolting towards the kitchen. Cries of 'here now, you rascal, get off of that table' and 'Estel! How many times must we tell you, DO NOT TOUCH THE OVENS!' signaled the cooks' distress and Arwen floated down the hallway after the boy.

"Arwen will make a good naneth," Celebrían observed quietly, looping her arm in Elrond's and gently drawing him away. The balmy evening was perfect and the roses were in full bloom; it was a wonderful time for a stroll.

In the kitchen, Estel giggled insatiably as Elladan attempted to scoop the egg out of his hair. He glared at his twin, "You will pay for this, brother, you will pay…"

The cook had fled the kitchen at the first sight of the foursome, pausing only long enough to order them to clean their mess up – and finish washing the few dishes left, as well – "Or you won't touch anything in this kitchen, food included, until you've scoured every single dish dirtied between now and then!"

"I makin' a cake!" a certain toddler said proudly, sitting on the counter next to a large bowl. Arwen bustled about the kitchen in a pink apron, her dark hair held back with a piece of twine, gathering the ingredients for said cake. She carefully measured out flour, sugar, and a number of other components, handing the correct amount to Estel to pour in the bowl. Finally, she cracked two eggs and let Estel dump them into the mix.

"Very good! Now we must stir it, and then we can put it in the oven and let it bake! No, Estel! Do not eat the batter; it will make you sick!" she said, her voice higher than 'twould normally be. She wiped Estel's hands and face and lifted him from the counter. "Have Elrohir help you find a pan and smear it with butter so the cake will not stick while I stir the batter."

Once the cake was in the oven, Estel bounced excitedly. "I make a cake!" he spouted, very proud of himself. Suddenly, he stood stock-still, his eyes wide.

"What is it?" the twins chorused, Arwen began to move very, very quickly.

"Estel, do you need to relieve yourself?" she asked, lifting him even though he shook his head. "Do not go on your star! Be a big boy, okay? Are you a big boy or a baby?" her fleet feet bore them to the washroom quicker almost than she spoke. Estel had begun to writhe alarmingly.

"Baby!" he replied, protesting as she pulled his swaddling down. His 'star' fell out of its safe-spot as Arwen sat him upon the toilet. The twins sniggered behind her as Estel finished, proudly proclaiming, "I done!"

"Praise him! He must be praised if he is to continue with this behavior!" Arwen scolded the twins as she cleaned Estel up and replaced his swaddling. "You did so well, Estel! I will give you an extra-big piece of cake as you were such a big boy!"

"No, I a baby!" Estel replied, wrinkling his little brow. "I wiiiiiike cake!"

"I know you do, little one, but if you are a baby, you cannot have any," Elrohir replied, smirking.

"That's right," Elladan continued, "babies do not have teeth and cannot chew cake! I will make you some mash instead."

"No! I wan' cake!" Estel complained, running ahead to the kitchen. "MY CAKE! I MAKE CAKE! MY CAKE!"

As such, when Elrond and Celebrían followed the scent of freshly-baked cake, they found their four children, happily gorged, surrounding a half-eaten, crooked cake.

"Wook, nana! Wook, ada! I make cake!" Estel called sleepily. He made no effort to stand.

"I see that, ion-nín. Was it good?" Celebrían replied sweetly, moving to lift the tired little boy and take him to bed. He allowed her to, surprisingly, and was within minutes asleep.

Smoothing the curly brown locks from his forehead, Elrond smiled. Innocent grey eyes searched, half-seen under not-quite-closed eyelids. "Such a special little child." At his words, Estel opened his eyes, meeting Elrond's and smiled. Celebrían's heart melted; Elrond stood entranced by the little boy, who he saw was still not quite awake.

"Wuv you ada..." he whispered as he closed his eyes once more, but before he fell asleep, he reached up and touched Elrond's face briefly.

"I love you too, ion-nín. I love you too...oh curses, I've fallen in love again, haven't I? My little one..." he murmured, stroking Estel's cheek. A small hand moved from Estel's mouth, capturing his and holding it against the side of the child's face. Estel smiled, pressing his ada's hand into his cheek.

Celebrían smiled to herself, not letting on that she been present the whole time. Elrond really was soft at heart, she mused, a lover and not by nature a fighter, though he had proven himself more than capable when necessary. It was not where his true happiness lay, however. No, his true happiness lay in the helping of others, in loving and being loved.

_Estel will change many things, not the least of which my husband. I can feel it_, she thought as she slipped off to sleep, still watching her husband standing by the crib.


	8. Chapter Five: Why?

**A New Love**

**By**: Eleniel

**Rating**: PG 13

**Warnings**: None

**Summary**: AU. What would have happened if Celebrían had been rescued in time? Arwen never resided in Lórien. Estel resides with two foster-parents instead of one. The twins never lost their innocence. The future of Middle-Earth is altered forever, and we can only watch its inhabitants attempt to adapt.

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: Anything you recognize is not mine. If you don't recognize it, it probably is mine. If it is mine, it is copyrighted. I don't steal; I expect you not to. I'm not getting paid for playing in anybody else's toy box. Reader's donations are accepted, though...wink

**Feedback**: (or the review button tends to work well…well, usually).

_Italics_ thoughts, prayers, anything spoken silently. Could also be flashbacks. You will usually be able to tell fairly clearly which is which. If there is confusion, please email me, and I will let you know.

**Author's Note**: Short, I know, but at least it's up! Have fun, guys! (typing with long nails is difficult...)

* * *

"I wan' go home."

Anor shone brightly in the midmorning sky as Estel stood with Celebrían and Elrohir at the door of the Last Homely House. The latter rose his eyebrow in imitation of his father.

"You are home."

"No, I at your house. I no wiv' here. I wiv' in da fowest!" Estel declared proudly, hands on his hips. "I wan' go home. I gotta feed my doggy."

Elrohir sniggered, hiding a smile behind one hand as he lifted the tiny child with the other. "Estel, you live here, with us now. I promise someone is taking care of your doggy."

Estel's face scrunched up in anger, his eyes dark and his mouth wide open as he lunged for Elrohir's shoulder. "NO! I WIV' IN DA FOWEST!!" he yelled, beating at the younger twin's head with furious little fists. Elrohir yelped in surprised pain as Celebrían snatched Estel from his arms.

"Estel! That is enough, child! – " her scolding stopped short as Estel burst into noisy tears.

"I sowwy, 'Wo! I no bite no more! I go home now?" he whimpered, grey eyes wide and filled with tears. Elrohir bit his lip, shrugging helplessly.

"Estel…little love…" grey eyes met blue as the Elf fought to fight the right words. "Oh tithen pen, I am sorry. You have to stay here…"

"Why I no go home?" the toddler asked, tear-stained cheeks gleaming in the sunlight and lower lip wobbling dangerously. He buried his face in Celebrían's neck, wailing. "Why I no go home?"

"Nana…what do we do? What do we tell him?" Elrohir whispered, rubbing Estel's back.

"I do not know. I truly do not know, Elrohir," Celebrían replied, gently rocking. "What can you tell a baby who has lost all he knows? He does not understand."

Estel cried himself into an exhausted sleep. As Celebrían moved to take him inside, Elrohir stopped her, instead cradling the boy carefully.

"Where might you be going?" she asked as he walked away; Elrohir merely smiled, adjusting his grip on Estel

* * *

Hours later, Glorfindel stumbled upon them hiding in a crook in the garden. Estel's thumb was tucked securely in his mouth, his arm wrapped around Elrohir's neck; his other hand lay on the back of Elrohir's head, cradling it. His head slipped neatly beneath the Elf's cheek, eyes moving rapidly under their lids and lips curling into a grin every once in a while.

Elrohir was fast asleep as well, arms curled tightly around the little child. His knees were brought up behind Estel, protecting him, and one or two fingers occasionally traced the shell of his ear or his cheek, as if checking to make sure he was still there.

A small smile spread across Glorfindel's face as he watched the pair sleep for a few moments, then slipped off, an idea fresh in his mind.

"Wo?" Something wet dragging across his eyelid woke Elrohir. Bringing a hand up to push it away, he encountered only a child's face – his eyes flew open.

Estel, tongue stuck out, sat on his lap, head cocked and grin wide. "Hi Wo! It's time to wake up!" Estel bounced on the Elf's stomach, soft boots impacting just below his ribs. "Wake up!"

"I – am – awake – Estel – I – am – awake!" he gasped, grabbing hold of the child. A foul scent wafted toward him as he did so. "How about we go change your nappy?"

* * *

"Oh my…goodness gracious, child!" Elrohir very nearly swore as he undid the pins holding Estel's nappy shut. Estel smiled, holding his legs in the air as he waited for Elrohir to wipe him down and re-dress him.

Being new to the practice of changing a boy's nappies, Elrohir missed one important point as he cleaned Estel up, and, as small children are wont to do, as Elrohir leaned over him, Estel giggled –

" – Oh! Estel! Stop! No! ESTEL!" Elrohir's shouts (along with curses that turned Glorfindel's ears pink) brought half of the House to witness the scene.

Estel lay on his back on the changing table, an unfastened nappy under his bottom, laughing merrily as he finished his business, leaving Elrohir dripping and with a rather pungent odor. The Elf's eyes were as large as dinner plates, and his eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hair.

"Elro – oh sweet Eru…" Glorfindel snorted in a most unelven way and doubled over in laughter. "El – ro – hir – you – have – to – keep – that – covered!" he managed inbetween peals of giggles. A few Elves stared warily at the Balrog-slayer, backing up slowly.

"He's finally gone 'round the twist," one whispered; the others nodded.

"Glorfindel," Elrohir growled, lifting Estel and thrusting him at the older Elf. "You. Take. Him. Now. I am taking a bath." Glorfindel was laughing so hard, however, that Estel cried in fear, struggling to get away.

"WO! WO!" the little boy shouted. Glorfindel, still chortling, quickly diapered the child and handed him off to Erestor, tears in his eyes.

"I missed something. Speak," Erestor ordered as he took the toddler.

"Elrohir did not keep Estel covered whilst he was changing his nappy (snort) and Estel – he hit him right in the (cackle) face!"

Erestor stopped still, his face frozen. Slowly, his lips spread wide across his face, and howls of laughter had him doubled over as well. Estel shrieked, struggling wildly and breaking free from Erestor's grip. He scurried underneath a table, around the legs of a chair, and behind a statue – only to find himself unable to scurry back out. His head and shoulders wedged tighter with every movement; he did the only thing a toddler could do under the circumstances.

Erestor and Glorfindel, having witnessed his flight and now hearing his screams, tugged on the boy's feet – Estel screamed harder, struggling.

"Estel! Stop fighting! It is only us! We're attempting to free you!" Glorfindel yelled over the boy's screams. Estel stilled –

– and asked, "Why?"

Glorfindel and Erestor froze, brow's wrinkled. "What?" they asked in union.

"Why?" the little voice came again.

"Because you are stuck," Glorfindel answered, bewildered, pulling on the child's foot again.

"Why?"

"Because you wiggled back there and now you cannot get out," Erestor explained, pulling harder.

"Why?"

"How do I know?" Glorfindel snapped, exasperated, pulling even harder. With a yell of pain, Estel came free. Scrapes and abrasions decorated his head and arms, some bleeding, and his clothing was dirty and ripped, but he seemed to be all right.

"Come on, Estel, let us go and clean you up," Erestor said, stooping to pick the boy up. Estel smiled as they walked down the long hallway.

"Why?"

"Oh Eru…why, Estel? Because you are dirty and you need to be – " Erestor began, but a small gasp interrupted him. Isil peeked above the horizon as they passed a window, and Estel's eyes were wide as he watched her.

"What is it, Estel?"

"I found dem! I found dem!" he shouted, squirming uncontrollably. "I found my pawents!"

"What?" Erestor was bewildered, staring at the moon as Estel pointed wildly towards it, screaming _"I found them!"_ repeatedly.

"Nana an' ada! Dey're in da moon! I found dem!" the little child yelled into Erestor's ear. His body squirmed, feet digging into Erestor's ribs. "I found dem…"

"Estel…well, I suppose…they're with Eru little one…" Erestor's mind raced; the Elf was panicking. There is no easy way to make a child understand death, let alone a toddler.

"Yeah, in da moon. Dey come see me? Hi nana! Hi ada!" Estel threw his arms straight up, falling limp; Erestor did not anticipate the move and lost his grip on the boy. Estel slid straight to the ground.

"Estel!" he called – Estel darted to the window, shoving the billowing white curtains out of the way and leaning precariously on the ledge. His grimy little face was turned as far skyward as it would go, large eyes tracking the moon.

"It's all wight, nana…it's all wight…" he whispered. Small hands wrapped around linen curtains, grasping them like security blankets.

"Oh little one…come on, let us wash you off and we will go to bed," Erestor said, gently picking the child up once more and cradling him like an infant. "I am sorry, lapsë." (baby)


	9. Chapter Six: Loki

**A New Love**

**By**: Eleniel

**Rating:** PG 13

**Warnings**: None

**Summary:** AU. What would have happened if Celebrían had been rescued in time? Arwen never resided in Lórien. Estel resides with two foster-parents instead of one. The twins never lost their innocence. The future of Middle-Earth is altered forever, and we can only watch its inhabitants attempt to adapt.

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: Anything you recognize is not mine. If you don't recognize it, it probably is mine. If it is mine, it is copyrighted. I don't steal; I expect you not to. I'm not getting paid for playing in anybody else's toy box. Reader's donations are accepted, though...*wink*  
**  
Feedback**: Rowen_Chan at hotmail dot com (or the review button tends to work well…well, usually).

**Italics**= thoughts, prayers, anything spoken silently. Could also be flashbacks. You will usually be able to tell fairly clearly which is which. If there is confusion, please email me, and I will let you know.

I am going to start making large leaps in time – six months have passed since the last chapter; at least six more will pass before the next (in the fic, not in RL…in RL about three years have passed…). I think four chapters of baby-Aragorn is plenty, don't you?

Please remember that young Estel is based on what my little Goddaughter acted, spoke, and thought like at that age. Her speech was impeded but advanced, as is Estel's – he's Númenorean after all, so he should have skills over plain old man.

Wow! I actually updated! YAY!

____________________________________________________________________________________

Estel screamed with pure delight, struggling in Celebrían's arms.

A tan puppy stood in front of him, firmly attached via a leash to Elladan's hand. The animal had a black streak along its back and nose and stood about half as tall as the toddler himself.

It was Estel's third birthday and, wanting to do something special for the boy, his new family had arranged to get him his puppy back.

"MY DOGGY! MY DOGGY!" Estel shouted. Celebrían laughed lightly, releasing the child.

He ran towards the puppy, which skittered nervously out of his way, but Estel turned surprisingly quickly for one fo young and chased it down.

As the dog jerked abruptly to the end of its tether, Celebrían and Elladan spoke at once, admonishing the boy.

"Estel, do not chase the puppy!" Even as they chastised the child, they smiled. It warmed their hearts to see him so happy.

Estel stopped short, looking at the Elves. The puppy pulled on its leash in front of him, trying to get away from the exuberant toddler. It had been six months since the dog had seen the child and it obviously did not remember him.

As the dog stopped squirming to lick at itself, Estel took the opportunity to lunge at it once more, grabbing it by the tail and yanking it back harshly across the snow-covered stone of the courtyard. The dog yelped but did not bite, showing a remarkably good sense of humor for a puppy of nine months who had not been exposed to many small children.

Estel wrapped his arms fully around the dog as soon as it was within reach, trying hard to lift it. He only managed to get its front feet off the ground, but he dragged it forward anyway.  
"Wook nana, my doggy! I gotta feed her and den we can pway an', an', an'…" He ignored the Elf Lady's scolding, keeping a tight hold on the puppy as he walked towards her. The dog's back feet scrambled madly as it squirmed uncomfortably. Suddenly, Estel coughed, hard, the sound ringing through the air. He made a face and spit out a wad of green mucus; the Elves exchanged worried looks over his head.

"EEEEEWWWW!" Estel wrinkled his nose in disgust as he wiped mucus from the puppys' coat with mittened hands.

In fact, Elladan noticed, his breathing seemed a little wheezy and his face was flushed. Something was wrong. He pried the boys' hands from the puppy, letting the creature drop onto all fours once more and handing the tether to a servant.

"Come, Estel, we must go tell ada about your puppy," he said cheerily, the concern in his eyes completely missed by the protesting little boy.

"I gots to feed Loki!" the child's voice was urgent. "She's hungwy!" Elladan carried him inside assuring him that the servants would care for the dog until they saw ada.

* * *

"He has pneumonia. Why, for goodness' sake, did you let him take his coat off outside, with snow still on the ground?" Elrond berated his eldest as he examined Estel, putting his sharp Elven ear to the boys' chest and listening for a moment.

"I honestly did not see him, ada. Then, he felt hot, so I thought to let him cool down a bit before I had him put it back on…" Elladan had never had much experience in caring for three-year-olds and he frowned, shifting uncomfortably under his father's glare.

"And that is how he caught pneumonia."

"I suppose, ada –" before Elladan could say more, Estel interrupted, his small voice somewhat whiny.

"I no feel good, ada…" he stated quietly, his face flushed and yet somehow pale. He sneezed violently, once, twice, three times, mucus dripping from his nose. "Adaaaaa," he whined, "I wan' Ahwen an' nana."

"I know, Estel. Nana and Arwen will come see you after your nap," Elrond replied, picking the little boy up off the white linen sheets and wrapping him in a blanket. Estel seemed to accept this, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he laid his head on Elrond's shoulder.

The Elf patted Estel's back, singing softly as he walked circles around the small sickroom. Estel closed his eyes.

After a short nap, Estel awoke to a hand upon his forehead.

"Estel, little one, wake up. Ada has some medicine for you," a soothing, melodic voice drew the boy back to consciousness. He opened his eyes to find Celebrían sitting on the edge of his bed. He noticed he was back in his bedroom, in his newly-made big-boy bed.

"Nana!" he exclaimed, and was immediately seized by a fit of coughing. "Nana, I no feel good," he said miserably. Celebrían touched his face gently, smiling.

"I know Estel; ada will help you get better," Celebrían spoke softly and soothingly, gathering the boy into her arms as Elrond entered the brightly-colored room, stepping over toys and stuffed animals.

"Here, Estel, this will make you feel better," Elrond offered a small cup of tea to the boy, who promptly refused it, knocking the cup from Elrond's hand. Elrond sighed.

"Estel, if you do not take your medicine, you will not be allowed to play with your doggy," Celebrían admonished as Elrond poured another cup of tea. The toddler shook his head.

"No care!" he spit venom as the tea was offered once more.

"Estel, stop this. Take your medicine."

"No!"

"Estel!!"

"No!"

Elrond shook his head as he held the second cup. Estel had his hands clamped quite firmly over his mouth, shaking his head wildly.

Celebrían intervened, "Child, please take your medicine, for nana. If you drink it swiftly I will get you a drink to wash it down with and you may have a treat." Estel did not take the bribe, keeping his hands clamped over the lower half of his face. Both Elves sighed heavily, glancing at one another briefly. This was getting very old, very fast.

Finally, after several more attempts, Elladan, who had been standing quietly in the background, took the boy from his mother. He took the cup of tea from his father, pinching Estel's nose with one hand and putting the tea to his lips with the other. Estel struggled for a moment, but opened his mouth to take a breath. Elladan hated to do this to the little one, but he had to take his medicine and there seemed to be no other way.

Estel swallowed the medicine, mouthful by mouthful. He was crying by the time the cup was empty, and Elladan felt wretched. He laid his cheek on top of Estel's head, making soothing noises and walking in circles around the small exam room.

Estel sniffled, his tears eventually drying. Elladan smiled down at him.

"It does not always have to be that way, Estel. If you take it willingly, we will not have to force you to. I did not enjoy that little brother, and I know you did not either. The medicine tasted bad, but I think it will not taste as bad if you swallow it without a fight and get a drink of water or juice afterwards." Estel nodded, turning a shy smile on his brother before burying his face in the Elf's tunic.

"I pway wif' my doggy now?" he asked, his voice muffled by the cloth. Elladan laughed.

"No, Estel, you are sick. I will bring your doggy in so she may lay with you, but you must do just that - lay and rest. All right?" he said, putting the child down before he left to get Loki.

When he returned, the boy was asleep once more. The dog jumped on the bed to lay beside him, and Elladan wished he could have had an artist draw the two as Estel's hand curled firmly in the animal's fur and the dog laid with his nose to the little one's forehead.

Estel took his medicine willingly, if grudgingly, for the next week or so as he continued to improve. It was not long before he and Loki were running through the halls of Imladris, chasing one another.

* * *

The dog's name means 'dragon' in Elvish.


	10. NOTE

This story has been rewritten. This version is hereby discontinued. Please check my profile page for the story titled "An Unfamiliar Affection". Thanks for the reviews and support and I hope you enjoy the rewrite!


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